When Brendan Joyce put me in touch with Valentini's music, I was immediately attracted to its energy and wit. I wanted to find a new perspective and mood hidden behind the bravura surface. With the burst-of-energy fourth movement of his Concerto op. 7 no. 7 ringing in my ears, I travelled around France and Italy by train in January (2012), on the way to visit a friend in Florence (I had a few days before starting a tour with my ensemble Topology). Not being much of a tourist, I nevertheless found myself passing, on the train's route, through some of the biggest stops on the typical if-it's-Tuesday-this-must-be-Belgium trip. Rather than sightseeing, though, I sat and listened to what was going on in my head; sitting beside St Mark's in Venice, the Duomo in Florence and Notre Dame in Paris, I was hearing a dreamlike, transformed version of Valentini's music; nostalgic, somewhat nebulous, floating and tender.